Forgive, but not forget.
by Em
Summary: After Voldemorts demise Harry Potter gets transported to an alternate reality where his parents are allive and he is dead, literally in a blink of an eye. Not romance, just the way i see the reunion. First chapter is more of a prologue. C/c welcome. No Ma
1. Prologue.

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Forgive, but not forget.

Em

Authors note: I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer:

_I am not the owner of any of the characters or any of the places. As many fanfic authors say, I am just taking them all for a spin. The characters and their personalities were made up by the renowned JKR. Whom I'm sure you're all familiar with._

He tentatively pulled the red flower out of the glass vase and brought it to his face, breathing in its sweet scent. Contemplatively he gazed into its black centre. The vibrancy of the poppy contrasted nicely with his bright green eyes. Such a beautiful flower serving as a reminder to a terrible memory. The memory of death. The memory of violence. The memory of loss and despair, but most importantly the memory of war.

The sun rolled lazily out from behind the wispy clouds, making him briefly shut his eyes and repeatedly blink in adjustment. Such a beautiful day. To the young or ignorant it was a garden to have picnics on soft blankets or a place to walk the dog. To Harry and lots of others it was a place holding many memories. Memories hidden by flowerbeds neatly tended hedges and regularly cut grass. Underneath these painted images was a canvas of soil, bloodstained with many horrific battles and other unpleasant things.

Resigned that the past was the past and best left forgotten, he deftly placed the poppy on the round stone. This stone was exactly in the centre of what can only be described as public pleasure gardens. It was erected ten years ago to the day when the evil lord Voldemort was slain. It was the very spot. No carvings, no message, no plaque to say what the stone was for. Nothing. But at the time there were no words that were considered appropriate or needed. 

Today was different. Waiting for a couple of muggles to pass by, he took out the dagger that slayed him. With little effort due to the blade's sharpness he inscribed 'Forgiven, but not forgotten. May he who rests find forgiveness from others.' 

A small smile twitched upon his lips. Forgiven. Everyone would think him barmy. This was the man that had caused him so much pain. This was the man that had killed his parents. This was the man that hurt so many. But after Voldemort's demise Harry had spent five years hunting evil and found that his soul could not rest. He travelled and after two years went to Tibet. It was here where he'd stayed; it was here where he'd found his answers. His soul could not rest until he had forgiven. And now he had.

He sighed and before turning to go thrust his dagger into the heart of the stone. 'Like King Arthur' he silently mused and walked away.

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The sun was in his eyes again. Glaring at him, daring him to not blink. He blinked, but it was not the serenity of the gardens that he opened his eyes to, it was Hogwarts. His heart briefly beat hard in his chest as he panicked, but as soon as it had begun it went back to normal. Quickly he flicked his eyes over everything around him. He was in the Great Hall and it was full with students. McGonnagall was holding a crude wooden stool and an old worn hat. The lack of eleven-year-olds lining up told him that the sorting had just finished. 'Damn. If only I'd come sooner, I only got to see four sortings. Three and a half, but whose counting.' Stopping thinking to himself he cleared his throat. It was a habit that had developed over time. During the dark days he had had to give a lot of speeches and command a lot of people. Yet the cough wasn't that necessary, he already had everyone's attention, but in a way it served to break the silence.

"Albus." Immediately he fixed his gaze on the old man. "A word please. No need to go to your office, the side room" He gestured, "Will do fine." With that he strode confidently over to the mahogany door, his eyes briefly darting over to where his mum and dad sat at the teachers table.

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Thus ends the first chapter.


	2. Reunion.

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Forgive, but not forget.

Em

Authors note: shall I continue?

Disclaimer:

_I am not the owner of any of the characters or any of the places. As many fanfic authors say, I am just taking them all for a spin. The characters and their personalities were made up by the renowned JKR. Whom I'm sure you're all familiar with._

The room was bare save for a red rug covering the cold wooden floor and two tapestries adorning the walls. He turned around and was met with a very blank Dumbledore. It was obvious that the old man was trying to not show his surprise. Harry coughed.

"I" He started then with a flick of his hand conjured up two comfy chairs reminiscent of the ones in the Griffindor common room. "I am Harry Potter. Son and only son of Lily Evans and James Potter. I have no idea how I got here and am only telling you this because in my world my parents are dead and seem to be alive and well. By the blank look you have and because I know you so well I guess you don't recognise me and because I recognise some Hermione Granger who is my age at the teachers table I think I can safely say that I am not back in time and are therefor in another dimension. I would appreciate it if you would fill me in on what your world is like before we enter the great hall again." He stopped and as Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak he added. "Briefly would suffice."

It was an hour when the two finally emerged. The old man hadn't trusted harry to begin with, but as the two swapped stories. Some relevant and some not, trust seemed to form. Harry didn't know why he was there and his eyes kept glancing around waiting for the trap to be sprung. It was with a slight sadness that he found out his other self was dead, but he soon cheered up when he realised he'd have his mum and dad to himself.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes greeted him as the two entered and all that could be heard was the echo of Albus's laugh from the telling of a rather embarrassing memory that harry chided himself for telling. However well he got to know the old man, he always managed to be able to prise information out of him. It was a few minutes until the hall went back to its usual level of chit chat as the two made their way out of the hall and with a quick whisper in Minerva's ear which resulted in the deputy herself and the Potters also leaving the hall.

The small train of people walked in silence to the stone gargoyle. Harry could feel three pairs of curious eyes bore into the back of his head. A faint despair began to tickle his skin, making it tingle. 'What if they don't like me? What if they don't believe me? What if they suddenly disappear? Why is this happening? Is it an illusion? Is some dark wizard fooling me? Making me vulnerable? Tricking me into spilling my secrets?' The thoughts stopped as the gargoyle neared and with a hastily whispered password, stepped aside.

The office looked almost like a brick-a-brack store with odd antiquities covering every surface imaginable. The large wooden desk in the centre of the room looked as if it had seen better days but was sturdy none the less and large, very large.

"Lily, James." Albus started as he sat down behind his desk as the others took their own seats. "This is your son, Harry Potter." He gestured towards the man before them. His hair and bone structure remarkably resembled James's own, but nothing more of the childhood uncannyness was left. Time had taken its toll. Tanned and weathered skin hinted at hot climates and a harsh life. His lips were impassive, betraying no emotion. It was as if he'd had to guard himself his entire life. Callused hands sat neatly in his lap. He sat surely yet with a slight dejectedness that told of many bad experiences. His head was tilted slightly to the floor, which indicated uncomfortableness with the attention, yet it would momentarily snap up and stay. The contradiction with his demeanour was very apparent. Dark bags under his eyes revealed to them that he slept little, yet his bright eyes that were Lily's spoke of life and overpowered the impression of weariness you got when looking at him. Intelligence and power could be seen in those green depths and at fist it was quite startling, but as they looked closer they felt safe in his presence. Safer than ever before.

"Harry?" Lily spoke first. Afraid that she was imagining things. Her boy, her baby boy was sat in front of her. He was as alive as she was. How she had dreamt of him turning up out of the blue. A radiant smile on his lips, telling her he loved her and that everything was all right and that he didn't die. His eyes, so much like hers, yet so much more, stared at her intently. It was as if he was trying to see if she was real.

"In my world you died when I was one." He stated simply. Her heart ached to hear those words, but so as to reassure her that he was all right he reached out and held her hand. His gaze never flickered, boring deeper and deeper into her soul. "I love you" He paused to clear his throat. "I love you both." His eyes travelled to his father who had been watching the two interact. His wife and son. They were a family again. He snapped out of his reverie at those four tender words. At once the couple reciprocated and embraced tightly under the watchful eyes of Minerva McGonnagall and Albus Dumbledore.

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Thus ends the second chapter. Want me to continue?


	3. Phoenix.

            _Forgive, but not forget._

_            Em_

_            Authors note: Thankyou so much for reading the last chapters, I hope you like this one the same if not more._

_            Suzybeth…I hope the information I've given so far is enough._

_            Clingon87…thankyou._

_            LadyFoxfire…Thankyou. Here is the more._

_            Djay…I know this isn't so interesting. I just wanted to set the scene more._

_            Nicky…I'll do just that._

_            Lunatyme…Thankyou._

_            Disclaimer:_

_I am not the owner of any of the characters or any of the places. As many fanfic authors say, I am just taking them all for a spin. The characters and their personalities were made up by the renowned JKR. Whom I'm sure you're all familiar with._

Albus Dumbledore couldn't help but marvel at the calm aurora that the man sat before him gave off. True, he'd been through a lot and that alone could either subdue a person or make them insane. But this was different, it wasn't a man withdrawn with fear; it was a brave man, kind and placid by nature. He was a man that was almost born to lead, but not by force or with a loud voice, but with little effort. The man, Harry, almost demanded respect with the way his gaze held onto your very soul the moment your eyes met.

            There was in common between him and his parents. Lily was bubbly and always had a smile, at least he'd inherited her kindness; James was outgoing and sought to be the centre of attention whereas his son had it immediately. Albus looked over to where McGonnagall stood, he could see a little tear cascade down the side of her face. She was quite close to these two; she'd been their head of house and now was a colleague. The three broke apart.

            "I will take up residence in the tower behind the painting of the phoenix." Harry stated simply, his gaze now on the old man himself. It was a statement and not a question. Although his tone was soft it held such authority that Albus daren't question him. He'd heard the stories of Harry's life and knew that he was neither a liar nor someone to mess with. The tower itself hadn't been inhabited in years although in Harry's world it was where he had once lived. The tower itself was quite small compared to other towers and spaciously housed one person. He could see it out of his bedroom window and had often longed to be able to wave to a neighbour, whether they were stood on the rusty balcony or sat having tea in the untended garden that was situated on the flat roof. He nodded his assent, although he doubted that made any difference. Harry then stood up and left, his robes dramatically billowing out behind him as he went similarly to the way Snape entered. Two very stunned parents were left in his wake. 'Perhaps the reunion was too emotional for him?' he thought and then realised that perhaps it was not. The man had been through worse, but then again it wasn't everyday that you get sent into an alternate reality where not only is Lord Voldemort very much alive, but where your parents are too. 'He's probably tired and wants to sort out his old rooms. Gaining a bit of normality and continuity were there is none is probably what he needs. Besides, the rooms are far from liveable he'll have a long night and probably day sorting that out.'

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            Confused and tired he neared the portrait.

            "Move aside, the phoenix is here." He said. That was the declaration he had to say when he first took up these rooms. In his world he was the head of the order, the prophesised one. By declaring who he was he could enter without a password. The golden and red phoenix chirped happily at him and then obliged.

            The staircase was gloomier than he remembered and as if he'd just switched on a light it dawned on him. The rooms would be exactly the same as when he'd first become an occupant. It wasn't fair. It never was fair. Luckily he was much more powerful and so with a flick of his hand the ceiling became dotted with many stars, creating a soft, glowing light. He continued on.

            The first room was quite huge as it covered the whole level of the tower. The curving, bare walls and the layers of dust created a strong longing of home. Soon there was a modern looking room, such a contrast to the rest of the castle. There was a thick raised ring around the room, a higher platform. Three steps brought you down into the rest. The walls were a light blue and the floor was mosaic with lilac and deep blue tiles. Two huge French windows led out to a large balcony that twisted halfway around the tower. The whole room was done in the style of art Nouvou and the furniture was a mix of wood, glass and aluminium. The ceiling was of a summer's day sky with moving wispy clouds. Long, velvet curtains graced every window and flowed like water, their material like the invisibility cloak but blue.

            An invisible staircase went up to the next level on the inside and a wrought iron one from the balcony led to the garden up top. The next two levels consisted of a stylised Grecian bathroom, a lavish Indian style bedroom, an Italian style dining room, a Victorian study and a little room like the one he'd had in Tibet which he reserved for meditation. The rooms all reflected his travels and although they were different than the way they had been in his world he felt more than at home in them.

            The garden was next and he began a lengthy incantation that would revive it to how it had been before, how it had been when the last occupant was there. He was very pleased with the results as a tidy little English garden came to life with two wrought iron seats and a table. 

            In his back pocket he had his shrunk trunk. He took it everywhere with him. It was like mad eye Moody's except the last compartment held more than a little room. It held an entire set of rooms including a library that he'd spent a lot of time and money to build up. He wanted so much to unpack some of his things, but thought better of it. 'I arrived here in a blink of an eye, I don't want to suddenly go back without my things.'

            So instead of unpacking or even undressing, he lay tiredly down with the intention of going to sleep. 'What if my parents aren't there in the morning? What if they decide they don't like me? Will I like them? So much has happened, what if they expect me to be like a son, naive and questioning? What if I get to know them? Get to love them, and Voldemort takes them away? Never! I wont let that happen, I can't let that happen! Who's behind this? Would Voldemort be so stupid as to bring his defeater to him?' The questions kept pouring forth and it was hard to realise at which one he fell into a deep sleep.

            In their rooms Lily and James lay down, confused and worried. Thinking similar thoughts to Harry's. Dumbledore had told them certain things about their son and the most prominent thought I their minds was 'Will he ever except us after all he's been through without us?'

            _Thus ends the third chapter._


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